Small Moments in the Middle of Big Stories
by alikat522
Summary: This is a set of drabbles for Avatar: The Last Airbender. No storyline, no overarching theme, no set amount of stories. Just small scenes of what could have been happening on the sides.
1. Hot Leaf Juice

Disclaimer: "Avatar: The Last Airbender" and any of its characters do not belong to me. I just like to hang out in their world.

**Hot Leaf Juice**

There is so much to do. They are in the process of remaking a world, a new, better, safer world. There are economies to rebuild and lands to restore. There are grudges to settle, and perpetrators to punish. There are deals to be made and treaties to agree upon. There are one hundred years of sins to atone for.

But there is time for tea. Every time the Fire Lord comes to Ba Sing Se, often on diplomatic missions, trying to rebuild communications with the great city, there is one shop that he has to visit. He changes out of his formal garb, but long gone are the days he can pass among citizens without being recognized. The crowds in the shop part for him, and the owner guides him to the back room. The other customers can wait; not because this is the Fire Lord, but because this is the owner's nephew.

A pot and cups are already set, jasmine tea already brewed, and the Fire Lord pours; even royalty has to respect their elders. They talk about many things: the state of the tea shop, the city, the country, the world. Advice is given, but less and less is needed every visit. They are settling into their new places in the world, the world that needs so much time and care

But there is, and always will be, time for tea.

Or, depending on one's view, hot leaf juice.


	2. Replacements

He knows Lu Ten is dead. He will never pretend otherwise. His son came into this world the day his wife left it, and since that beautiful and terrible day, he has always strived to be there for him, to take advantage of every moment they had together. That is not to say that he was never busy or distracted; he was the crown prince, and the nursemaids and nannies and tutors were a blessing. But Iroh's memories of his own father were cold and sterile; being dressed up and presented to the man on the throne of fire. He tried with all his might to make sure that his son really knew him, and he really knew his son. They fought, they bickered, they argued, but in the ways of a father and a son, not a king and a subject. Lu Ten was his child, his friend, and his world.

Of course, the problem with really knowing someone is that you cannot replace them when they are gone. It would have been so easy, too. He returned from Ba Sing Se, and Zuko was right there. Rejected by Ozai, abandoned by Ursa, made vulnerable by Azula. It could have been a second chance, a way to never lose Lu Ten. He could have his son back.

But that would have been a disgrace to Lu Ten and Zuko both. They were two different people, two different boys in many ways. Lu Ten had been jovial where Zuko bristled. Lu Ten had been calm where Zuko was livid. Lu Ten had been warm where Zuko was hot. And Lu Ten had been Iroh's, where Zuko was Ozai's. Pretending otherwise would be a dishonor to everyone involved.

So he loved Zuko on a new set of terms. He mourned his son by raising his nephew. He guided him, strived to know him too, comforted him as Ozai moved farther and farther away. He could have the crown, for all Iroh cared. Ozai could not see what he was missing. Hopefully it would not take losing Zuko for his brother to realize the blessing he had. No matter his feelings for his brother, he would not wish that pain on anyone.


	3. Too Cool for a Fourth Wall

**Too Cool for a Fourth Wall**

I mean seriously, have you seen how awesome I am? I know, I know, I'm comic relief. But who cares if I can fly, or have a badass scar, or even that I don't have any of those fancy bending skills. Just look at these muscles! Who needs magic karate when you're ripped like this?

But it's not just all the looks! I am a seriously skilled person. If it wasn't for me, the rest of the group would be wandering around doing whatever they felt like. I build things! I get things done! I am a tactical mastermind! I don't need a mustache to show how much I've grown as a character; I just let loose a wave of pure, distilled, BADASS!

And of course, let us never forget that the ladies love me. You can go "Zutara" or "Kataang" all day, or mash up whatever words you want, but I have had two, count 'em, TWO, canon girlfriends. An awesome warrior chick and a princess/moon goddess. Yes. I dated the moon. Take that, scar boy. And I can charm NPC girls all day long, with my mad poetry skills. I don't have a flashy title, cause I don't need one. My name is enough to drive the girls crazy.

So, long story short, I am awesome. The reason I don't get a ton of screen time, is because if I did, the screen would explode from the sheer power. They tried to get some sparkly-vampire-wussy-white-boy to play me. But get a clue, Shyamalan; all the ladies know the truth. I am Sokka of the Water Tribe. Accept no substitutes.


	4. Exciting

She flies from platform to platform, balancing on threads, putting her life on the line time after time to entertain others. It would probably be an understatement to say she likes danger. She loves the feeling of being on the edge, not knowing what might happen at any moment, not knowing which mistake could be the last.

With Azula, she never knows. Friends since childhood, but the smallest wrong word could mean banishment or death. Being with Azula isn't walking a tightrope, it's running a gauntlet. While on a tightrope. It's a challenge, and one that doesn't seem to have much reward. It's not like anyone is there for her charming company, and there must be easier ways to garner respect and notoriety in the Fire Lord's court.

But she is there for the same reason that Mai is. Azula is dangerous and wild, which are just other words for exciting.


	5. Ashes

They were both very good at destroying, something that became more and more clear the further they got into reconstruction. From places as grand as Ba Sing Se, Omashu, and the North Pole, to little villages scattered throughout the Earth Kingdom, to a nobleman's house on Ember Island. Things that had once been notches on their belts were now marks to be ashamed of, sins that had to be atoned for. The path of the Avatar's journey was a line of victories, places brought hope and joy by their savior; it seemed that they had taken time to solve the smallest of crises, saving the world in ways both large and small. Zuko and Mai's travels were burns stretched over the maps. Maybe that one old general had been right, the one who left the army in defiance; maybe fire only did destroy, leaving nothing but ashes.

But fire is not static and rigid, serving only one purpose. The same flame that could burn down a forest could be a candle guiding the way in the night. The same drive for honor that sent him across the world searching for the Avatar sent him back to rebuild. Her loyalty had once been to a crazed princess; now she gave that dedication to her people. All of her people. She had knelt before Bumi and apologized for helping take his city. Bumi had pulled her to her feet and hugged her, cackling the whole time.

There would always be ashes to sort through. But under many piles, there were still embers glowing, the embers they would use to light up the world.


	6. Lullaby

What was that song again? That one that Iroh sings to his son? I could go ask him…no, it's probably too late, I do not want to keep anyone else up. Oh, why won't you go to sleep? I've been rocking you for two hours, why won't you calm down?

I could call for a nurse. I have seen them helping with Lu Ten, they are certainly good with children. They could probably get him to sleep in a moment. It is not like I have not used them before, bringing a baby to a royal function is not exactly smiled upon…no, I can take care of him. This is what mothers do.

Should I wake up Ozai? This is his son, he should at least have to stay awake too. But he was in the war room with his father for hours today, he is probably too tired. He is trying to help rule the nation; my job is to bear and care for the children. Easy enough. Or it would be if you would just stop crying.

Shush, baby. You need sleep, little man. You need to grow up big and strong, like your father. He wants to have his little soldier boy, and you will be wonderful at it. Of course, you will always be my baby first.

That was it, that song!

" Leaves from the vine, falling so slow,

like fragile tiny shells drifting in the foam.

Little soldier boy come marching home.

Brave soldier boy comes marching home."

You like that song, don't you? I swear Iroh is magic sometimes. Yes, sleep, darling, it is okay. Go to sleep now. I will still be here in the morning.


	7. Auras

People laugh when she talks about auras, brushing it aside as another funny comment from the silly little circus girl. But when she has to fly from one rope to another and into the arms of a fellow performer, suspended high above the ground, it does well to be able to read people, and know who to trust to catch her. They just happen to feel like colors to her; there is no other good way to describe them.

She can feel them change. She felt her own light up and fill with warmth when she left home, taking on rosy tones as she balanced on her fingertips. She felt it get muddy when she had to leave the circus, turning dark and twisted with fear and awe of Azula, becoming a brownish burgundy, nothing even resembling a flower color anymore. As strange as it seems, prison made it lighter. Things became clearer and prettier. She has more purpose with the Kyoshi warriors, so she's moved to a jewel tone, no longer the light pink, but stronger and richer. Ruby would probably be a good description now.

Mai has been grey for as long as she has known her, like her aura was soaked in a calligrapher's dipping pot. She spread the grey out around her, pulling the auras around her into dinginess. Except when she was throwing knives, of course. Then, flashes of gold would shoot through, moments of passion and energy that not even a lifetime at court could stifle. It makes Ty Lee smile to realize that Zuko brings out her gold.

And Azula. Azula was different. Most people have one color at a time, with flashes of others, but a solid base. Azula's was a painter's palate gone wild, swirling and twisting at all times. Sharp, bold colors moved through patches of sweet pastels, cool tones bleed into warm colors which mixed while staying separate, always moving. She claimed to be composed and in control, but Ty Lee always knew different. She was always moving inside.

From the moment she stood by Mai at the prison, Ty Lee knew what was going to happen. Azula looked at them both, standing there in defiance, and a surge of color pushed its way into her aura. The twisted delicacy made way for heavy brush strokes of rusty red. It pushed aside all else, pulsing and growing like a mosquito-leech. Ty Lee didn't know if she and Mai created it, or if it had always been there, just hidden away, but it was in full force now.

She did not hear the full story until months later, the story of Azula's downfall and descent. She made the appropriate shocked noises and agreed that she had not seen it coming. In truth, she was surprised it had taken as long as it did. Some may call them a silly circus trick, but auras don't lie.


	8. Nightly Routine

They go through all of the nightly routines. She removes knife after knife, laying them on the bedside table, still within reach. Even the Fire Lady must be ready to defend herself. He puts the ointment over the left side of his face; it would not do to have the Fire Lord lose an eye not to battle, but to infection, especially years after the injury. They remove billowing robes and stiff armor, take off head pieces and let loose top knots. They remove the public faces, set aside the expectations surrounding them. Quite a bit is asked of them now, but even before the coronations, they were practiced in putting on the show. Composure, detachment, pride; no one can keep those up all the time. So in the midnight hour, they put it all to rest, tucked away in a bedside table, ready to be reapplied in the morning.

The Fire Lord and Fire Lady do not go to bed. They do not hold each other in their arms, his inner fire guaranteed to keep them both warm. They do not sleep peacefully and well, comforted by love. The Fire Lord and Fire Lady do not.

But Mai and Zuko do.


	9. North Pole

He wonders about bringing Suki with him, but ultimately decides it's for the best. She's seen him at some of his best moments, his victories, his successes, and even the moments where he's just squeaked by. But since he wants her to be part of his life, he figures she needs to know his failures too. And this was definitely the biggest.

Chief Arnook welcomes them both, as do the rest of the Northern Water Tribe. They brought a message from Pakku with them; while he has decided to stay in the south, he is still taking care to keep in touch with his homeland. Arnook takes them in, the two returning heroes from the war, and Sokka cannot stop thinking of how he let this man down. His time with Yue was measured in days, this was the man who knew her for a lifetime. All of his victories amount to nothing when he sees the sad smile in Arnook's eyes.

The Spirit Oasis is as wonderful as ever, a bit of warmth and comfort in the beautiful yet barren land of the North. The fish continue in their pattern, undisturbed by anything outside them, continuing to live because of one young woman's sacrifice. He knows what she did was right, that in the situation, there was no other choice. It does not make it hurt any less.

He has never been one for meditation; that was Aang's thing. He was always more of an action guy, when he wasn't busy with meat and sarcasm. But he sits himself in front of the pool and closes his eyes, taking in the energy of the place. Knowing she left right where he sat, knowing she reappeared as the moon spirit right in front of him, knowing he lost something inside of himself here. Maybe in time it will not hurt to think of Yue, to forget the girl he let down. It's going to be a while, though.

Suki sits beside him, and he can feel her warmth, her hand on his shoulder, the beat of her heart. She lets him mourn, give him the time he needs. He had been a child, trying to be a man, trying to make it in a war too big for him, and faced with the fact that he could not save everyone. She knows he loves her, even while she knows what Yue meant to him. He would not be the person she loved if he could let something like that go easily.

This is perhaps the one place in the North Pole where tears don't freeze on the face. A good thing, because he has plenty to shed. Bitter tears, sometimes angry tears, but at the same time, healing.


	10. Puddles

Jeong Jeong said water is cooling and peaceful, but what does he know about it? Has he ever stopped a storm and threatened to spear an old man with icicles? Has he ever taken control of someone's body and forced his will onto theirs? Has he ever encased a girl in ice and chained her up, leaving her to scream and cry alone? I know I can tell myself that all those were justified. Azula had hurt so many people, and was going to go on hurting if she wasn't stopped. Hama was going to kill Aang and Sokka. And the captain…well, I didn't go through with it. But none of those things stop me from dreaming. Who is Jeong Jeong to say that water can't hurt?

When I was a child, I could change the way the snowflakes fell. I'd make one bump into the other and into another until it was already a little snow ball by the time it hit the ground. My mother would hug me close and smile when I showed it to her; it took me years to find out why those smiles were a little sad. I didn't know about genocides and wars and ice daggers and blood bending. I was a little girl playing with magic water. I was surrounded by it. Water was the ground I walked on, the air I breathed, the food I ate. I will never feel so at home as I do standing on a sheet of ice. It was pure back then.

So many things have changed, and continue to change every day. I spend my time with great leaders, trying to rebuild the world and make right all of the things that have been broken. I watch my brother speak with great tacticians, my father send out ships of supplies to suffering villages, my friends meet with angry people who are not so willing to accept the new improved Fire Nation. I can't exactly blame them; I know how hard it is to forgive when you've been hurt. These wounds run deep, and a little glowing water along a chi line cannot solve a global crisis. It can't even heal a scar.

Only a few things in this world can keep me sane any more. And one of those things is rainy days. It doesn't matter where we are, where we have to be, or who we're with. He comes, takes my hand, and pulls me out into the rain, to play in the puddles. Long passed are the days of me teaching him water bending by rivers, but he can still make it seem fun and new. He's grown into an adult while I've watched, but he helps me feel the water like a child all over again. We splash and jump and get our fancy clothes muddy. We hold each other in the downpour. And sometimes I focus on individual drops, combine them with other drops as they fall, and drop a great splash of water right on top of his shaved head.

It's a tool. It's a weapon. It's a means to an end, something powerful that can be used to move nations and stop armies. But when I'm in Aang's arms, ankle deep in a puddle, for an instant, I can let the water wash over me and feel the waves. He can make it feel pure again.


	11. Heirs

It was fairly common practice in the Fire Nation to name one's child after one's parents, the child's grandparents. It was not required, obviously, or the crown would have bounced down through generations of Sozin's and Azulon's. But it was considered an honor to one's family and heritage, as well as a tribute to those who had raised you, cared for you, guided you and shown you the way. It meant that you had learned their teachings, and wished to pass them down to the next generation. The ultimate sign of love and respect.

So it was with pride that Fire Lord Zuko looked down at his daughter for the first time, held her in his arms, and whispered "Hello, Irah."


	12. Sweet Lunacy

She forgets a bit more every day. Everything she experiences now is so vast, so potent, that it pushes aside simple memories, the past shades of a young woman's life. She is spread over the entire world, not to mention her ties to the Spirit World, and she feels everything under her gaze, every whispered prayer and screamed plea. She listens to her people and feels their joy and pain; not just the water benders either. They are the ones who use her power, but her light is for everyone.

She might have forgotten about him, if he had not been traveling with the Avatar. She struggles to pick her father out of a group, how can she be expected to recall one young man that she knew for a few weeks? The Avatar stands out in her sight, a glowing beacon, highlighting the connection between worlds. La reminds her how the Avatar helped them against the attackers. He reminds her of a lot of things. La was born a spirit and has long since grown used to seeing the entire world; he knows her mind is suffering, going from human to spirit, so he sometimes points out things she has forgotten.

_See the young man? He is looking at you, Yue. He is not looking at Tui. He is looking at Yue._

She sees him, and occasionally she can remember his name, the Southern boy who travels the world, always under her gaze. She often loses track of time, so caught up in the cycle, so she will look back and see a man where she last saw a boy. Or maybe he just had to grow up fast. The entire spirit world watches on the day of the comet, waiting to see if the Avatar can succeed. She looks instead to the man on the airships, fighting alongside a friend and a lover. The once-painted girl has replaced her, but she can't bring herself to feel angry, even if she could muster that much human emotion. He has found love, something to ground himself to the human world, a luxury she has long since lost.

But he never forgets about her, and as time passes, her mind expands enough to keep track of everything, her celestial callings and human memories. She still needs La's help sometimes, and he is the first to notice.

_Yue, look. Down there. They are watching you._

Her face is shining full in the South that night, casting a silver-blue glow across the ice and water. The man stands at the edge of an ice drift, looking out across the water and up into the night sky, far enough from camp fires to take in all of the stars. But his attention is only for the moon. He crouches down on the ice and puts an arm around the small figure in front of him, guiding the little one's eyes to the sky.

"See, honey? Look at the moon. Can you say moon?"

"Muuuwn."

"Good. And did you know someone lives in the moon? A beautiful spirit, a woman wearing a silvery dress with flowing hair. She looks down over everyone, spreading her moon magic. Can you say Yue?"

"Ooooue."

"That's right, sweetie! That's Yue. She's the one who helps benders like your Aunt Katara. She is beautiful tonight."

"Preeedy."

"Uh-huh, very pretty…Come on, it's getting cold, we don't want you to get sick. Let's go back to camp; I think some of the women are making stewed sea-prunes tonight."

"Yay!"

"Who knows, maybe Mama will like them this time."

They walk back towards the small fires on the ice, towards the once-painted woman and the rest of the tribe. All these years later, he takes time to look at the moon, and show it to his child.

_He remembers you, Yue. _

Yes…yes, he does. And she remembers him. But he has his place, and she has hers. She cherishes her human memories, remembers her life on the land. But that is not who she is anymore.

_Please. Call me Tui._


	13. Not Boulders, But Stones

"Look at my hands.

There are fifty four rocks on each of them. See how they fit together. See how they all fit perfectly into place, not bumping into each other, but providing support and structure. They move with my hand, with my bending, any possible way with only the slightest motion from me. These are organized stones.

But they are not the same stones every day. I might use them up in the act of restraining someone, in battle, or in some other manner. My job them would be to take earth from somewhere around me and make fifty four more stones. It is not the same earth, but that is not the point. I shape them and craft them until they fit perfectly as well, indistinguishable from any other day's stone.

Think of this city. Live here long enough and you will see millions of faces. Each face has a mind behind it, and each mind has a story behind it. Each person you meet is on their own adventure, a personal journey which you may never understand. But that is not the point. The faces will change, but there will always be merchants. There will always be refugees, artisans, noblemen, noblewomen, scholars, politicians, and royalty; there will always be power-hungry people. They are never the same people, but they always fit together into the same groups. They can be organized. And when something can be organized, it can be used. It can be controlled.

You will wear this city like a glove. The tiniest motion of your hand could send it spinning into chaos, but you will never do that; these are not boulders, but stones. The pieces must fit together or they lose their power. Be careful, be delicate, but detach yourself from sentimentality. One face is no more precious than one stone, and even the most powerful can be crushed to sand in an instant.

It is a subtle art, but you will learn it soon. Work with your partner, learn from him, and in time, you will truly know what it is to be a bender.

Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Then welcome to the Dai Li."


End file.
